Chapter X: Act V: (A lapse of years.) During the Revolution (7)

The death of Belasco’s daughter,--“my little guardian,” as he has called her in talk with me,--was a bereavement more than usually bitter. She was a creature of extraordinary goodness and beauty, of exquisite sensibility, gentle and lovely in nature, childlike in disposition, the pitiful friend of all sorrowing and suffering persons, the special comrade and comfort of her father, and her death came within less than five months after her marriage--to the actor William Elliott. When Belasco was informed of his child’s attachment to Elliott (whom she had met when he was a member of the company supporting Miss Starr in “The Rose of the Rancho”) he, at first, opposed their marriage,--“Not,” as he has told me, “that I had any personal objection to ‘Billy,’--who is a dear fellow

“_Oft in the still night_
_Ere Slumber’s chain has bound me_
_Fond Memory brings the light_
_Of Other Days around me._”

From an original made for, and loaned by, Mrs. David Belasco.
]

and whom I always liked,--but because I had hoped she would choose a husband out of the theatrical profession, one who could live all his life with her,--which the inevitable travelling of theatrical life makes practically impossible. But when I saw that my little girl was pining for him, that a great love had come to her and that she could never be happy without him, I brushed all my own hopes and wishes away and urged their immediate marriage. I thought to keep her always near her mother and me, so as a wedding gift I had an apartment fitted up for them in the Marie Antoinette, where we live, and we were all going to be together and happy: but it was not to be.”

William Elliott and Augusta Belasco were wedded, at the home of her parents, January 27, 1911: as they were about to start on their honeymoon, the bride, while bidding good-bye to her father, was stricken with sudden illness and collapsed. At first it was believed that her illness was merely a transient disorder, which would soon yield to treatment. For a few weeks her condition fluctuated, but seemed, on the whole, to improve: then, at the end of March, she began rapidly to decline, and Belasco was informed that she was afflicted with an acute form of tuberculosis, which must soon cause her death. That was an issue which her father could not and would not accept without a bitter struggle. “I had seen so many desperate cases of consumption saved, for years,” he said, “that I _could not believe_ my little girl, who had always seemed so strong and well, who was so young and lovely, on the threshold of her new life, with everything to live for, must die. I gathered her up, overnight, and fled with her to Asheville.” There Belasco leased Witchwood, a fine residence,--the home of the late Colonel Charles W. Woolsey,--and installed his daughter in it. Her fatal malady could not, however, be stayed, though every expedient was tried that love could prompt or wealth employ, and she grew rapidly worse. On May 1, in a forlorn hope that the climate of Colorado might prove beneficial, Belasco chartered a special train and removed her to Broadmoor, a beautiful place in the environs of Colorado Springs,--where, on the afternoon of June 5, after great suffering borne with patience and fortitude, she died. Her body was taken to New York; funeral services were held there, at the Temple Ahawath Chesed, on June 9, and late on that day she was laid in her grave in Ahawath Chesed Cemetery, at Linden Hills, Long Island.

“My little Augusta,” writes Belasco in a note made for me, “was the
gentlest creature I have ever known and the kindest. No one but
myself will ever know how many poor girls and young men have had
places _made_ for them in my companies because she came and asked
it, with her dear little arms about my neck. And she had good
judgment, too; I never have regretted employing any of the people
she interceded for. She was just a child to the very end. She had
caught some of my foolish little superstitions, and when she died
she was surrounded with pretty little painted butterflies that she
had pinned about her to help her to get well--‘and I know they
will,’ she told the doctor, ‘because my father believes in them and
says so!’ Each of my girls was my ‘favorite’ child, but the younger
was my special companion, who always took care of me. Though she
might have been up till all hours the night before, she never
missed getting up to see that I had my breakfast properly, and I
never got home too late for her to come pattering to my room to see
me safely tucked into bed. I think that, in her heart, the poor
child must have had some premonition that she was going to die
soon, because she was so fascinated by my play of ‘Peter Grimm.’ I
had no thought, when I was writing it, that she was to be taken
away from me; but I had long wanted to write something that might
show death in a beautiful way; something that would touch on
immortality as a vivid reality, just a flash beyond this life, and
so help to inspire hope. I used to talk to my little girl about it,
and she was the first to read my play when it was finished. I gave
it to her one evening and waited for her verdict far into the
night, and her approval meant much to me. She attended all the
rehearsals, and one night she told me that after seeing ‘Peter
Grimm’ no one should be afraid to die. It was the last play she
ever saw,--and it is my comfort to believe that its message entered
her soul.”

Belasco’s elder daughter, Reina Victoria, was married to the theatrical manager Morris Gest, of New York, at Sherry’s, in that city, on June 1, 1909.

A DRAMA OF SPIRITUALISM.

(Fragmentary Notes, Not Revised.)

The extreme dissatisfaction of the _Ghost_, who, on returning from the spirit world to this mundane sphere, ascertains that his, or her, earthly sweetheart or husband has formed a nuptial alliance with somebody else has been noticed by various poetical writers in deeply affecting verse, dramatic, descriptive, and pathetic,...

Belasco’s play “The Return of Peter Grimm” deals with the mysterious and certainly important subject of Spiritualism,--a subject which deserves all the thoughtful, studious inquiry which has, in recent years, been bestowed on it by many persons of exceptional intellectual capacity and power. It is, nevertheless, a subject which is generally treated with pitying contempt or scornful antagonism, especially by those persons,--the vast majority of humanity,--who are most comprehensively ignorant of its history and its apparent phenomena. It was, accordingly, a bold choice which selected that subject for exposition in a drama of prosaic, contemporaneous

Original made for, and loaned by, Mrs. David Belasco.
]

setting, and it is a significant testimony at once to Belasco’s managerial perspicacity and to his skill as a writer and a stage manager that his play of “Grimm” achieved unusual success....

In the days of my youth, when I was a student at the Dane Law School of Harvard College, it was my good fortune to gain the friendship of the erudite lawyer Theophilus Parsons, who was a preceptor there, and to listen to much interesting and instructive discourse by him on many subjects--among them, the Swedenborgian faith, to which he was an absolute and happy adherent. “Death,” he remarked, in expounding to me the tenets of that faith, “is no more than walking from one room into another.” The same thought (which has, of course, been cherished by many persons) seems to have been predominant in the mind of Belasco when he was writing “The Return of Peter Grimm.”...

BELASCO’S “THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM.”

In drama, whether prose or verse, the device has frequently been used of bringing back to our material world the spirits of persons who have passed out of mortal life, and causing them to pervade the scenes with which they were associated in the body. That device is employed in Belasco’s “The Return of Peter Grimm,” in which David Warfield made his first and, thus far, his only approach to the realm of Imagination [since this passage was written Warfield has appeared, 1915-’16, as _Van Der Decken_, in a drama by Belasco on the subject of “The Flying Dutchman.”--J. W.]. _Peter Grimm_, a prosperous, self-willed, kind, good old man, who in the government of his family and the arrangement of his worldly affairs has made serious errors,--the most deplorable of them being the separation of his ward, a docile, affectionate girl named _Kathrien_, from a youth who loves her and whom she loves, and her betrothal to his nephew, _Frederik Grimm_, a hypocrite and a scoundrel,--is suddenly stricken dead, of heart disease, and, after a little time his spirit returns to the place which was his earthly home, intent on retrieving those errors, discomfiting the rascal by whom he has been deceived, and making his foster-child happy. Warfield, personating _Peter Grimm_, first presented him as a mortal, afterward as a spirit. The character,--honest, sturdy, opinionated, worldly-wise, somewhat rough and imperious, yet intrinsically genial,--was correctly assumed and expressed, but the actor’s denotement of spiritual being was neither

Photograph by White. Belasco Collection.
]

imaginative nor sympathetic, and it did not create even the slightest illusion.

The purpose of the dramatist seems to have been to intimate a notion, comfortable to the general mind, that spiritual existence of beings once mundane is merely a continuation of their everyday condition in this world. In the absence of knowledge on the subject that assumption is as tenable as any other. Persons who are commonplace in what we call Time may reasonably be held to remain commonplace in what we call Eternity. No one knows. The Book of Destiny has not been opened. But the rationality of assumption which makes of “that undiscovered country” only a prolongation of this earthly scene at once dissipates, especially for dramatic purpose and effect, all atmosphere of _spirituality_, all glamour of the ideal, which happily might be superinduced by imaginative treatment of a mysterious subject. However prosaic the quality of a disembodied spirit may remain, it seems reasonable to assume that there must be some essential difference between the material body and the spiritual body, and the person undertaking to represent a spirit could succeed, if at all, in denoting that difference not by stage tricks but only by mental power and affluence of emotion, by weird strangeness of individuality, by exquisite sensibility, by magnetism, and by the artistic skill to liberate those forces and so elicit and control the sympathy of his auditors. Warfield’s personation of _Grimm_ gave not the faintest intimation of spirituality, and there was not one gleam of imagination in his presentment of the spirit.

Few actors have ever succeeded in conveying to an audience any really convincing, absorbing sense of _spiritual presence_. The dramatist of “Peter Grimm” probably did not intend that any such sense should be conveyed. Warfield, apparently, did not attempt to convey it, and if, as appears true, it was the actor’s purpose to present _Grimm_ as essentially the same person after death as before, then his personation, undoubtedly, was the rounded result of a definite plan, and was, as such, entirely successful.

The part of _Peter Grimm_ has been described as one of great difficulty. It is, on the contrary, very easy. Its requirement is sincerity. _Grimm_, as a spirit, clothed as in mortal life, must move among persons who were his friends, unseen by them, unheard when he speaks, eagerly desirous to influence their conduct, but practically helpless to do so, except at moments when accession of extreme sensibility on the part of one or another of them provides occasion, until, at last, force of circumstances and the impelling guidance of the dead man achieve his purpose. Acted in the spirit precisely as in the flesh, as a good old man, the part makes no draft upon the resources of mind or feeling or upon the faculty of expression that any good actor might not easily satisfy. The situations wherein _Grimm_, ostensibly, is ignored by the other persons on the stage in fact revolve around him and are dependent on his presence; he engages the sympathy of the audience practically to the exclusion of all the other characters, and the almost universal interest--whether assenting or dissenting--in anything relating directly to the theme of spiritual survival after death, together with the novelty of a ghost displayed in the environment of every-day, centres observation on _Grimm_ and his personator.

Warfield’s performance, notwithstanding the prosaic atmosphere of it, was interesting, and his excursion into the realm of the occult was, at least, calculated to stimulate thought on a serious subject. In this, as in many other matters, the degree of approval gained by the play and its performance will ever be variably accordant to taste. To some persons, no doubt, the ideal of a newly dead child being borne away on his spirit-uncle’s shoulders, singing about “Uncle Rat has gone to town to buy his niece a wedding gown,” and musically inquiring, “What shall the wedding breakfast be? Hard-boiled eggs and a cup of tea?” will be delightful. Others, equally without doubt, will fail to find it impressive.

“The Return of Peter Grimm” was acted for the first time, January 2, 1911, at the Hollis Street Theatre, Boston; and for the first time in New York, October 18, the same year, at the present Belasco Theatre. This was the original cast of that play:

_Peter Grimm_ David Warfield. _Frederik Grimm_ John Sainpolis. _James Hartman_ Thomas Meighan. _Andrew MacPherson_ Joseph Brennan. _Rev. Henry Batholommey_ William Boag. _Colonel Tom Lawton_ John F. Webber. _Willem_ Percy Helton. _Kathrien_ Janet Dunbar. _Mrs. Batholommey_ Marie Bates. _Marta_ Marie Reichardt. _The Clown_ Tony Bevan.

CONCERNING THE EUNUCHS OF CRITICASTERISM.

The gentle Goldsmith, commenting on a meanness in human nature which causes little minds to envy and disparage the achievements of large ones, remarked that “There are a set of men called

Photograph by White. Belasco’s Collection.

DAVID WARFIELD AS _PETER GRIMM_, IN “THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM”]

answerers of books, who take upon themselves to watch the republic of letters and distribute reputation by the sheet: they somewhat resemble the eunuchs in a seraglio, who are incapable of giving pleasure themselves and hinder those that would.” Such emasculated perverters of the function of criticism,--scribblers bloated with envy engendered by conscious intellectual impotence,--flourish more or less in all periods; they are peculiarly prosperous in this one, and their envious malice is employed with at least as much industry in the “answering” and defaming of dramatists and actors as in the “answering” of books. Before Belasco had produced “Peter Grimm” in New York and almost in the hour of his personal bereavement, a representative specimen of that wretched brotherhood, itching to detract from the achievement of an author whom he could not hope ever to approach, published the false statement that Belasco was only _part_ author of that play. Among the papers loaned to me by Belasco is a copy of the following letter, which I print here because the misrepresentation alluded to has been several times iterated and the refutation of it should be placed on record:

(_Belasco to a Quidnunc._)

“Belasco Theatre, New York, “July 22, 1911.

“In your article in the current ‘--------’ there is a misstatement
which I should be much obliged to you if you would rectify, as it
places both Mr. Cecil De Mille and myself in a false light.

“Your article states that Mr. Cecil De Mille is my ‘_collaborator_’
in Mr. Warfield’s new play, ‘The Return of Peter Grimm.’ I am not
aware whether you saw the play when it was presented in Boston,
Chicago and Pittsburg last season. If you did so, however, you must
remember that on the play bill I gave full credit to Mr. De Mille
_for an idea_--WHICH I PURCHASED FROM HIM AND PAID VERY HANDSOMELY
FOR. As for the play--in its construction, its dialogue, its plot
and its characterizations--the play is _mine_ and MINE ONLY.

“Mr. De Mille, I know well, will be the first person to verify this
statement of mine, and in view of the fact that my play has not yet
been presented in New York--and may possibly prove a failure
there--I think it is only fair that _I_ should be held exclusively
responsible for _my own work_....”

“THE WOMAN”--AND MR. ABRAHAM GOLDKNOPF.

Belasco devoted most of the summer of 1911 to work on William C. De Mille’s play entitled “The Woman,” which he produced for the first time in New York, September 19, that year, at the Republic Theatre: a trial production of that play had been effected, April 17 preceding, at the New National Theatre, Washington, D. C. It is a highly effective melodrama, of the “contemporaneous interest” type, and it implicates twelve persons, nine of whom are germane to its action. It is neat in construction; it skilfully utilizes the invaluable element of suspense, and interest in its progress is cumulative to the dramatic climax. This, in brief, is its story:

A corrupt politician, the _Honorable “Jim” Blake_, a member of the national legislature, is scheming to get a specious bill enacted into law, whereby over-capitalization of railroad corporations and wholesale swindling of the public can be perpetrated in the guise of legality. Another member of the legislature, the _Honorable Matthew Standish_, perceptive of the latent iniquity of that measure and of the predatory intent of _Blake_, has so vigorously opposed the enactment of it and so bitterly assailed its sponsors that _Blake_ and his associates fear to force its passage. They determine, therefore, to divert attention of the people from the opposition of _Standish_ to their corrupt measure and purposed malfeasance by blasting his personal reputation with social scandal. In their effort to do this they ascertain that several years previous the _Honorable Matthew_, inflexible before Plutus, has succumbed before Venus--has, in short, registered at an hotel with a woman not his wife. The name of that woman is not known to their informant, and it is the despicable task of _Blake_ and his adherents to ascertain her identity in order to ruin his public career by convicting him of private misconduct. That task they attempt to perform by endeavoring to extort from a young woman, _Wanda Kelly_, the operator in charge of a telephone exchange desk, a telephone number in New York which _Standish_, in Washington, has called for, immediately after being apprised of the dastardly purpose of _Blake_ and his associates. The identity of the concealed and errant she as _Blake’s_ daughter, the wife of one of his chief supporters, the _Honorable Mark Robertson_, is deftly discovered to the audience by the device of a second telephone message to her, by her husband, immediately after the close of the warning of impending disclosure by _Standish_. The sympathetic _Miss Kelly_ resolutely persists in her protective secrecy as to _The Woman_ at the other end of the wire, and the climax is then attained when _Standish_ refuses to be driven from his public duty by the threatened assault on his private character and when _Mrs. Robertson_, having in an agony of dread listened to the unsuccessful coaxing and badgering of _Miss Kelly_, with sudden and desperate courage terminates the anxious situation by avowal of her delinquency, thus providing her corrupt parent and spouse with considerably more information than they desire to publish as to the amatory weaknesses of the obdurate _Standish_. This was the cast with which that play was first presented in New York:

_The Hon. Jim Blake_ John W. Cope. _Tom Blake_ Harold Vosburgh. _The Hon. Mark Robertson_ Edwin Holt. _Grace, Mrs. Robertson_ Jane Peyton. _The Hon. Matthew Standish_ Cuyler Hastings. _Ralph Van Dyke_ Carleton Macy. _The Hon. Silas Gregg_ Stephen Fitzpatrick. _The Hon. Tim Neligan_ William Holden. _A Guest_ Langdon West. _A Page_ George Van Blake. _A Waiter_ José Rossi. _Wanda Kelly_ Mary Nash.

The exceptional success of Belasco’s production of “The Woman” prompted a genius thitherto unknown to fame, a certain inspired and amiable barber of New York, Mr. Abraham Goldknopf, to assert that it was stolen from a sublime drama indited by himself in the intervals of tonsorial exercise and entitled “Tainted Philanthropy.” Belasco, in defending himself against this preposterous claim, resorted to a unique and costly though conclusive expedient. But before describing the trial of Mr. Goldknopf’s allegations, it is convenient here to examine with some particularity the general subject of

BELASCO AND PLAGIARISM.

“FOLLY LOVES THE MARTYRDOM OF FAME.”

No person rises to eminence without exciting antagonism and incurring detraction. Malice is quick to perceive any possibility, however trivial, of tarnishing a distinguished character, and hatred is ingenious in devising specious means of disparagement. The slightest appearance of weakness in any talented person favorably conspicuous in the public eye is eagerly seized as a ground of condemnation. Every close student of biography must have observed, relative to almost every eminent person commemorated, that there is always some one particular form of reproach which, by diligent, persistent iteration, is made to adhere to that person’s name, so that at last the one is seldom mentioned without association with the other. Eminent actors of the Past have been particularly singled out for defamation in this way. Barton Booth, for example, scholar and poet as well as actor, is stigmatized, on no competent authority, as a gross voluptuary; Garrick, because he was prudent, especially while he was poor, is styled an avaricious niggard; Kemble, an opium sot; Edwin Booth, a drunkard, which is a specially contemptible slander. Henry Irving was one of the greatest of actors, but, because he happened to be a person of many peculiarities, perfectly natural to him, we are forever hearing that he had “affected mannerisms”--which is distinctly untrue. Every department of biography furnishes examples of this form of aspersion. In the case of Belasco the customary disparagement takes the shape of an iterated charge of _Plagiarism_. In this work an examination of that charge is essential.

“It is an old trick of Detraction,” says Moore, in his “Life of
Sheridan,” “and one of which it never tires, to father the works of
eminent writers upon others; or, at least, while it kindly leaves
an author the credit for his worst performances, to find some one
in the background to ease him of the fame of his best.... Indeed,
if mankind were to be influenced by those _Qui tam_ critics...
Aristotle must refund to one Ocellus Lucanus, Virgil must make a
_cessio bonorum_ in favor of Pisander, the Metamorphoses of Ovid
must be credited to the account of Parthenius of Nicæa, and
Sheridan... must surrender the glory of having written ‘The School
for Scandal’ to a certain anonymous young lady who died of a
consumption in Thames Street.... Sheridan had, in addition to the
resources of his own wit, a quick apprehension of what suited his
purpose in the wit of others, and a power of enriching whatever he
adopted from them with such new graces as gave him a sort of claim
of paternity over it and made it all his own. ‘_C’est mon_
_bien_,’ said Molière, when accused of borrowing, ‘_et je le
reprens partout où je le trouve_.’”

THE “TRICK” AS APPLIED.

“Plagiarism,” says The Dictionary, is “the act of appropriating _the ideas_ or the language of another and passing them for one’s [_sic!_] own; literary theft.” It would not be very difficult, testing Belasco’s plays by that definition, and excluding all other considerations, to invest the charge of plagiarism against him, in some instances, with validity. The last part of “Hearts of Oak” is borrowed from Leslie’s “The Mariner’s Compass”; “La Belle Russe” is based on situations taken from “Forget Me Not” and “The New Magdalen”; the thrilling situation in the Third Act of “The Girl I Left Behind Me” is based on a similar situation in Boucicault’s “Jessie Brown; or, the Relief of Lucknow”; the agonizing situation in the Third Act of “The Darling of the Gods,” in which a military despot extorts information from a woman by forcing her to gaze on her lover subjected to torture, is derived (and bettered) from Sardou’s “La Tosca.” Other instances of similarity could be specified. It would, however, be a manifest injustice to stigmatize Belasco, _and only Belasco_, as a plagiarist on the

Photograph by Count Jean de Strelecki. Belasco’s Collection.

“THE STUDENT”--DAVID BELASCO]

ground of his indebtedness to plays earlier than his. He has done only what all other dramatists have done since the beginning of the craft; that is, he has based _some_ of his plays on dramatic expedients and situations that have long been considered to be common property.

AN ANCIENT USAGE.

Several of Shakespeare’s plays were based by him on plays of earlier date, by other authors. Dryden borrowed freely from Spanish plays and sometimes from Corneille and Molière,--a fact which caused Scott to remark (Preface to “The Assignation”) that “originality consists in the mode of treating a subject more than in the subject itself.” English dramatists, from Wycherly onward, have freely borrowed from Molière. Fielding, there is reason to believe, derived an occasional hint from the great Frenchman, as also from Thomas Murphy. Goldsmith was a little indebted to Wycherly. Hoadley borrowed from Farquhar; Steele from Bickerstaff; Colman from Murphy; Sheridan from both Wycherly and Congreve, and perhaps from his mother’s play of “The Discovery” and her novel of “Sydney Biddulph”; Boucicault from many French sources and some English ones. I would not be understood as approving or defending that practice in dramatic authorship: on the contrary, in the whole course of my long service as a dramatic critic and historian I have condemned it. These words, written by me many years ago, relative to Boucicault, indicate my view of _the practice_:

Dramatic authorship, indeed, seems to have been regarded by
him,--and by many other playwriters,--as a species by itself,
exempt from obligation to moral law. The bard who should “convey”
Milton’s “Lycidas” or Wordsworth’s great “Ode,” and, after making a
few changes in the text and introducing a few new lines, publish it
as a composition “original” with himself, would be deemed and
designated a literary thief. The dramatist, taking his plots from
any convenient source and rehashing incidents and speeches selected
from old plays, can publish the fabric thus constructed as an
“original drama,” and, so far from being discredited, can obtain
reputation and profit by that proceeding. [“Old Friends,” by W. W.:
1909.]

If the large majority of dramatic authors,--Sophocles, Shakespeare, Racine, Molière, Sheridan, and the rest, down to the present day,--be convicted of plagiarism on the ground that they have rehashed old material, that charge will stand against Belasco. But the dramatist who, with manifest truth, pleads, as Belasco can plead (and as I understand that he does plead), “a well-known, universal, recognized custom” cannot, justly, be singled out and stigmatized for plagiarism,--any more than a respectable Turk, resident in Constantinople, with four wives, can be singled out and stigmatized for bigamy. I no more approve the custom of what I call “playwrighting” than I approve or advocate polygamy,--but I speak for justice. Moreover, it is essential to be remembered that the number of basic situations, in fiction as in fact, is limited, and consideration of _the method_ of combining and treating them must vitally affect the question of “originality.” To make an avowed adaptation of the work of another, or, with credit, to base a passage on suggestion derived from an incident in the work of another is not plagiarism.

The fair investigator of the charge of plagiarism against Belasco will find that it is twofold: it accuses him of appropriation from the works of other writers precedent to him, and of appropriation from other writers contemporary with him to whose writings he has had, or, as alleged, may have had, access.

CHARLES READE ON PLAGIARISM.

In considering the first part of the accusation I would recommend all inquirers to read the masterly exposition of the subject of Plagiarism made by Charles Reade (himself one of the successful writers frequently, in his day, accused of the offence), which is printed, in his collected Works, as an appendix to his capital story of “The Wandering Heir,”--a story first made public in dramatic form. That exposition is too long to be quoted here in full, but the appended extract from it, which deals with what Reade calls “the mere intellectual detraction” involved in the charge that he had stolen “The Wandering Heir” from Dean Swift’s “The Journal of a Modern Lady,” is illuminative:

“It [‘the mere intellectual detraction’] is founded on two
things--1. The sham-sample swindle, which I have defined. 2. On a
pardonable blunder.

“The blunder is one into which many criticasters of my day have
fallen; but a critic knows there is a vital distinction between
taking ideas from a _homogeneous_ source and from a _heterogeneous_
source, and that only the first mentioned of these two acts is
plagiarism; the latter is more like jewel-setting. Call it what you
will, it is not plagiarism.

“I will take the fraud and the blunder in order and illustrate them
by a few examples, out of thousands.

“By the identical process Pseudonymuncle has used to entrap your
readers into believing ‘The Wandering Heir’ a mere plagiarism from
Swift, one could juggle those who read quotations, not books, into
believing:--

“1. That the Old Testament is _full_ of indelicacy.

“2. That the miracles of Jesus Christ are none of them the miracles
of a God, or even of a benevolent man--giving water intoxicating
qualities, when the guests had drunk enough, goodness knows;
cursing a fig-tree; driving pigs to a watery grave. This is how
Voltaire works the sham-sample swindle, and gulls Frenchmen that
let him read the Bible for them.

“3. That Virgil never wrote a line he did not take from Lucretius
or somebody else.

“4. That Milton the poet is _all_ Homer, Euripides, and an Italian
play called ‘Adam in Paradise.’

“5. That Molière is _all_ Plautus and Cyrano de Bergerac, ‘en prend
_tout_ son bien où il le trouve.’

“6. That the same Molière _never_ writes grammatical French.

“7. That Shakespeare is _all_ Plautus, Horace, Holinshed,
Belleforest, and others.

“8. That Corneille had not an idea he did not steal from Spain.

“9. That Scott has not an original incident in all his works.

“10. That five Italian operas are _all_ English and Irish music.

“11. That the overture to ‘Guillaume Tell’ is _all_ composed by
Swiss shepherds.

“12. That ‘Robinson Crusoe’ is a mere theft from Woodes, Rogers,
and Dampier.

“Not one of these is a greater lie, and few of them are as great
lies, as to call ‘The Wandering Heir’ a plagiarism from Swift.

“Now for the blunder. That will be best corrected by putting
examples of jewel-setting and examples of plagiarism cheek by jowl.

“Corneille’s ‘Horace,’ a tragedy founded on a _heterogeneous_
work,--viz., an historical narrative by Livy,--is not a plagiarism.
His ‘Cid,’ taken from a Spanish play, is plagiarism. Shakespeare’s
‘Comedy of Errors’ and Molière’s ‘Avare’ are plagiarisms, both from
Plautus. Shakespeare’s ‘Macbeth,’ taken from a _heterogeneous_
work, a chronicle, is no plagiarism, though he uses a much larger
slice of Holinshed’s dialogue than I have taken from Swift, and
follows his original more closely. The same applies to his
‘Coriolanus.’ This tragedy is not a plagiarism; for Plutarch’s Life
of Coriolanus is a _heterogeneous_ work, and the art with which the
great master uses and versifies _Volumnia’s_ speech, as he got it
from North’s translation of Plutarch, is jewel-setting, not
plagiarism. By the same rule, ‘Robinson Crusoe,’ though Defoe
sticks close to Woodes, Rogers, and Dampier in many particulars of
incident and reflection, is not a plagiarism, being romance founded
on books of fact. The distinction holds good as to single incidents
or short and telling speeches. Scott’s works are literally crammed
with diamonds of incident and rubies of dialogue culled from
_heterogeneous_ works, histories, chronicles, ballads, and oral
traditions. But this is not plagiarism; it is jewel-setting.
Byron’s famous line--

‘The graves of those who cannot die,’

is a plagiarism from another poet, Crabbe; but _Wolsey’s_ famous
distich in Shakespeare’s ‘Henry the Eighth’ is not a plagiarism
from Wolsey; it is an historical jewel set in a _heterogeneous_
work, and set as none but a great inventor ever yet set a
fact-jewel....”

“FOR THE DEFENDANT.”

Examination of Belasco’s plays will reveal that they are, for the greater part, founded on what Reade designates “_heterogeneous works_,”--that is, while he has in some instances borrowed or utilized material long generally regarded as common property, he has gone, far more, to history and record,--and that his plays contain more original writing than ninety per cent. of the plays which are customarily acted on the English-speaking Stage.

Turning from the question of what Belasco may or may not have derived from elder dramatists, we come to a field in which it is easy to move with definite, assured steps. The first accusation against him of plagiarism from a contemporary, as far as I have been able to ascertain, was made by Albert M. Palmer, on information and belief, in regard to the play of “The Millionaire’s Daughter,” first produced at the Baldwin Theatre, San Francisco, May 19, 1879. Palmer had been given to understand that Belasco, in this play, had infringed Bronson Howard’s play of “The Banker’s Daughter,” first produced at the Union Square Theatre, November 30, 1878, and which Maguire had endeavored to secure for Baldwin’s. He sent his attorney, W. Barnes, to see Belasco’s play of “The Millionaire’s Daughter,” accompanied by assistants, who took down as much as possible of the dialogue. After the performance Belasco said to Maguire: “It is not necessary for Mr. Barnes to try to take down my dialogue: he has _seen_ the play: tell him he can have a copy of the manuscript, if he wishes.” Barnes advised Palmer that there was _no plagiarism_ by Belasco, and there the matter ended.

The second accusation was that of Howard P. Taylor, alleging that Belasco took material portions of “May Blossom” from “Caprice”: Taylor would not bring that charge into court, though Belasco invited him to do so; and Harrison Grey Fiske, the editor of “The Dramatic Mirror,” the publication in which the false accusation had been repeatedly made, publicly declared it to be unwarranted.

Beyond these, I have been furnished by my friend Judge A. G. Dittenhoefer (acting with Belasco’s permission) with a list showing that six distinct, formal charges of plagiarism have been made against Belasco and redress sought by legal action for injury thus alleged to have been done by him. The plays as to which these charges have been made are (1) “The Wife”; (2) “Du Barry”; (3) “Sweet Kitty Bellairs”; (4) “The Woman”; (5) “The Case of Becky”; (6) “The Boomerang.”

In the first of these cases suit was instituted, in 1888, by Fannie Aymar Matthews, against David Belasco and Henry C. De Mille, praying for an

Photograph by the Misses Selby. Author’s Collection.
]

injunction to restrain the further presentation of their play of “The Wife,” on the ground that it was a plagiarism of her play entitled “Washington Life.” The action was tried before the Hon. Miles Beach, Justice of the Supreme Court of New York. Judge Beach decided in favor of Belasco and De Mille, finding that there was no infringement, _no plagiarism_.

The second case was an action brought by the French writer M. Richepin, January 25, 1902, in which he demanded an accounting for the receipts from representation of Belasco’s play of “Du Barry,” on the ground that it was, in fact, a play written by the Plaintiff. M. Richepin would not bring this case to trial, and it was finally discontinued, in January, 1908.

In the third case Grace B. Hughes (otherwise known as Mary Montagu) began an action, in the Circuit Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York, February 3, 1904, against Belasco, Maurice Campbell, and Henrietta Crosman. The action was brought to restrain further representation of Belasco’s play of “Sweet Kitty Bellairs,” on the ground that it was, in fact, an infringement of the Plaintiff’s play of “Sweet Jasmine.” Motion for an injunction was argued before Judge Lacombe, on March 18, 1904, and on March 26 it was denied, Judge Lacombe holding that there was _no plagiarism_. The case was never brought to trial, and it was stricken from the calendar, on March 3, 1913.

The fourth case (which is dealt with in detail, page 336, _et seq._) was the action brought against Belasco and William C. De Mille by Abraham Goldknopf, in February, 1912, in the United States District Court for the Southern District of New York, praying for an injunction to restrain the further representation of their play of “The Woman” on the ground that it was, in fact, an infringement of Goldknopf’s play of “Tainted Philanthropy.” Judge Holt, before whom the case was tried, held that there was no infringement by Belasco and De Mille, _no plagiarism_, and on March 3, 1913, final judgment was entered dismissing the Plaintiff’s complaint, upon the merits.

In June, 1912, the fifth action against Belasco was brought by Amelia Bachman and George L. McKay, seeking to restrain him from further presentation of “The Case of Becky,” on the ground that it was, in fact, a plagiarism of their play entitled “Etelle.” Trial of this action was begun May 13, 1913, before Judge Julius M. Mayer, of the United States District Court, and was concluded the next day. On July 9, 1913, Judge Mayer rendered his decision, holding that there was _no plagiarism_ by Belasco, and dismissed the Plaintiffs’ complaint, upon the merits.

The sixth case was an action begun on January 14, 1916, by Lila Longson, to restrain Belasco, Winchell Smith, and Victor Mapes from further presentation of their play of “The Boomerang,” upon the ground that it was an infringement of her play of “The Choice.” The case was tried in the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York, on September 19-21, and, at the close of the trial, Judge W. B. Sheppard held that there was no infringement and dismissed the complaint. Final judgment, dismissing the complaint upon the merits, was entered September 25, 1916.

In all these cases only one judgment in favor of Belasco was appealed,--that by Judge Mayer, in the action by Amelia Bachman and George L. McKay, _in re_ “The Case of Becky.” Their appeal was taken to the United States Circuit Court of Appeals for the Second Circuit and was argued April 6, 1914. On May 12, following, the Circuit Court of Appeals handed down its decision in favor of Belasco, affirming Judge Mayer’s decision dismissing the complaint. The opinion of the Court was written by Judge E. Henry Lacombe, and can be found in 224 Fed. Rep., page 817.

The significance of this summary of _facts_ is obvious. Belasco has been, and is, freely accused of literary theft,--but on each and every occasion when accusation has been made and investigated in Court he has defeated his defamers and been completely vindicated.

CONCERNING BENEFITS--REMEMBERED AND FORGOT.

While Belasco, in common with the generality of dramatic authors, has certainly profited by the example and sometimes by the labor of others (a fact which he does not seek to conceal or deny, but which, on the contrary, he has freely and fairly recognized and admitted), there is a _per contra_ aspect of his relation to other play-writers which none of his detractors,--and, for that matter, as far as I am aware, none of his admirers and advocates except myself,--ever mentions,--namely, the immense and direct advantage and profit derived by other play-writers _from him_. Nor is that indebtedness confined to makers of plays: as theatre manager, stage manager, mechanician, success for others if not always for himself has walked with him, and for scores of persons connected with the Theatre (many of them void of appreciation) his has been the touch of a Midas, turning dross to gold and, incidentally, establishing them in reputation. Among the makers of plays who, first and last, have greatly profited by his sagacity, skill, and labor are James A. Herne, Peter Robertson, Bronson Howard (who always handsomely acknowledged the obligation), William Young, H. H. Boyesen, Henry C. De Mille, A. C. Gunter, Clay M. Greene, P. M. Potter, Franklyn Fyles, Charles Simon, Pierre Berton, Charles Klein, Lee Arthur, John Luther Long, Richard Walton Tully, Miss Pauline Phelps, Miss Marion Short, William C. De Mille, William J. Hurlbut, Eugene Walter, Avery Hopwood, Edward J. Locke, Miss Alice Bradley, George Scarborough, and Winchell Smith.[6] In all the mass of letters addressed to Belasco and examined by me in preparing this Memoir I have found fitting acknowledgment of benefits conferred by only two of those persons, aside from Howard,--Franklyn Fyles and Mr. Scarborough. The latter wrote:

(_George Scarborough to David Belasco._)

“150 Madison Avenue, Tompkinsville, “Staten Island, February 28, 1916.

“My dear Governor:--

“Just a brief line before the drop falls on poor little ‘Wetona’
[“The Heart of Wetona”] to-morrow night:

“It has been a great honor to sit at your feet the past few
months--to go to school to you. An infinite pleasure, also, to have
seen you work and known you.

“If the play gets over, the great measure of the success will be
yours. If it fails, the fault will be with the material which came
to you.

“Whatever the issue is, I want now to thank you for your many
personal courtesies, for your enthusiasm and your friendship.
Hereafter, when some would-be author ‘hits the ceiling’ at some
change you suggest in his ’script, please have him get me on the
telephone and I will cheerfully tell him how many kinds of a d----
fool he is not to know a master touch and not to appreciate the
Master’s interest.

“May you be preserved to the Theatre for a long, long time.

“Affectionately, “_George Scarborough._”

The scope and variety of his labor as an author are impressively signified in the following partial list of his writings:

THE DRAMATIC WORKS OF DAVID BELASCO.

(Note.--The dates given in the following table refer to the years
in which the plays specified _were written_,--and, therefore, in
some instances, they differ from the dates given in Chronology, and
elsewhere, which refer to _presentation_ of the plays.)

JUVENILE EFFORTS.

“Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden.”

“Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp.”

Angel in Hell,” “An

Barmaid’s Revenge; or, The Fatal Corkscrew,” “The (burlesque).

Bohemian Girl,” “The (with music).

Bronze Statue,” “The.

Butcher’s Revenge; or, The Seven Buckets of Blood,” “The
(burlesque).

Death of Benedict Arnold,” “The.

Dying Boy’s Last Christmas,” “The.

“East Lynne” (burlesque).

Hanging of Nathan Hale,” “The.

“Jim Black; or, The Regulator’s Revenge” (_his first play_).

Roll of the Drum,” “The (before 1869).

Signing of the Declaration of Independence,” “The.

“Spiritland.”

Trovatore,” “Il (with music from the opera of that name).

WRITTEN BEFORE 1882-’83 (BELASCO’S NEW YORK CAREER BEGAN IN SEPTEMBER, 1882).

Ace of Spades,” “The (1877--or earlier).

“American Born” (based on “British Born”: 1882).

Assommoir,” “L’ (“Drink”: based on Zola’s novel: 1879).

Belle Russe,” “La (1880-’81).

“Bleak House” (from the novel--about July, 1875).

“Capitola” (a version of “The Hidden Hand”: 187[6?]).

“Cherry and Fair Star” (revision of the old spectacle so named:
187--).

“Chums” (1879--see “Hearts of Oak”).

Christmas Night; or, The Convict’s Return,” “The (1877).

Creole,” “The (based on Adolphe Belot’s story, “L’Article 47”:
1879-’80).

Cricket on the Hearth,” “The (from Dickens’ “Christmas Story”:
1877-’78).

Curse of Cain,” “The (with Peter Robertson: 1882).

“David Copperfield” (from the novel--before 1878).

Doll Master,” “The (1874-’75?).

“Dombey & Son” (from the novel--before 1878).

“Dora” (alteration of Charles Reade’s play: 1875).

“Faust” (1877).

Fast Family,” “A (adaptation of Sardou’s “La Famille Benoiton!”:
1879).

Haunted House,” “The (1877).

“Hearts of Oak” (based on “The Mariner’s Compass,” originally
called “Chums”: with James A. Herne: 1879).

Hidden Hand,” “The (from Mrs. Southworth’s book--at least three
different versions: before 1878).

Lone Pine,” “The (187[5?]).

Millionaire’s Daughter,” “The (1879).

Moonlight Marriage,” “The (“The Marriage by Moonlight”: based on
Watts Phillips’ “Camilla’s Husband”: 1879).

New Magdalen,” “The (from Collins’ novel--1874).

“Nicholas Nickleby” (from the novel--before 1879).

Photograph by Count Jean de Strelecki. Belasco’s Collection.

DAVID BELASCO]

“Not Guilty” (alteration of Watts Phillips’ play of that name:
1878).

Octoroon,” “The (“retouched and altered” version of Boucicault’s
play: 1878).

“Oliver Twist” (version of, from earlier play and the novel--before
1878).

“Olivia” (dramatization of “The Vicar of Wakefield”: 1878).

“Our Mysterious Boarding House” (1877).

“Paul Arniff” (based in part on “The Black Doctor”: 1880).

Persecuted Traveller,” “The (1877).

Prodigal’s Return,” “The (1877).

Scottish Chiefs,” “The (from the novel--before 1878).

Storm of Thoughts,” “A (1877).

Stranglers of Paris,” “The (based on Adolphe Belot’s story of that
name: 1881: re-written, 1883).

“Struck Blind” (from a story: 1875).

“Sylvia’s Lovers” (1874-’75?).

“Thaddeus of Warsaw” (from the novel--before 1878).

“True to the Core” (alteration of T. P. Cooke’s “prize drama”:
1880).

“Uncle Tom’s Cabin” (at least two dramatizations of the
novel--before 1878).

“Wine, Women and Cards” (1877).

“Within an Inch of His Life” (based on Gaboriau’s story: 1879).

WRITTEN SUBSEQUENT TO 1882-’83.

Auctioneer,” “The (rewritten from a play made at his direction by
Charles Klein and Lee Arthur: 1901: again, 1913).

“Caught in a Corner” (revision of a play by Clay M. Greene--and
others: 1887).

Charity Ball,” “The (with Henry C. De Mille: 1889).

Darling of the Gods,” “The (with John Luther Long: 1901-’02).

“Du Barry” (1900-’01).

Girl I Left Behind Me,” “The (with Franklin Fyles: 1892).

Girl of the Golden West,” “The (1904).

Governor’s Lady,” “The (with Alice Bradley--1911-’12).

Grand Army Man,” “A (with Misses Pauline Phelps and Marion Short:
1906-’07).

Heart of Maryland,” “The (1890-’95).

Highest Bidder,” “The (based on “Trade”--which never was acted--by
Morton and Reese: 1887).

Kaffir Diamond,” “The (revision of play by E. J. Schwartz: 1888).

Lily,” “The (adaptation from “Le Lys” by Pierre Wolff and Gaston
Leroux: 1908-’09).

“Lord Chumley” (with Henry C. De Mille: 1888).

“Madame Butterfly” (based on a story of the same name by John
Luther Long: 1900).

Marquis,” “The (version of Sardou’s “Ferréol”: 1886).

“May Blossom” (based in part on his own play of “Sylvia’s Lovers”:
1882-’83).

“Men and Women” (with Henry C. De Mille: 1890).

“Miss Helyett” (rewritten from the French of Maxime Boucheron:
1891).

Music Master,” “The (altered and revised from play by Charles
Klein: 1903-’04).

“Naughty Anthony” (1899-1900).

“Pawn Ticket 210” (with Clay M. Greene--based on an idea in
Baring-Gould’s novel of “Court Royal”: 1887).

Prince and the Pauper,” “The (revision of a play by Mrs. Abby Sage
Richardson, based on Mark Twain’s novel: 1889-’90).

Return of Peter Grimm,” “The (1908-’10).

Rose of the Rancho,” “The (based on “Juanita,” by Richard Walton
Tully: 1905-’06).

Secret,” “The (adaptation from French of Henri Bernstein: 1913).

“She” (revision of William A. Gillette’s dramatization of Haggard’s
novel--1887).

“Sweet Kitty Bellairs” (based on the novel of “The Bath Comedy,” by
Agnes and Egerton Castle: 1902-’03).

Ugly Duckling,” “The (revision of a play by P. M. Potter: 1890).

“Under the Polar Star” (with Clay M. Greene: 18--: revised, 1896).

“Under Two Flags” (revision of play by P. M. Potter, based on
Ouida’s novel: 1901).

“Van Der Decken” (1913-’15).

“Valerie” (alteration of Sardou’s “Fernande”: 1885-’86).

Wall Street Bandit,” “A (revision of a play by A. C. Gunter: 1886).

Wanderer,” “The (revision of Maurice V. Samuels’ adaptation of
Wilhelm Schmidtbonn’s “Der Verlorene Sohn”: 1916-’17)

“Wife,” “The (with Henry C. De Mille: 1887).

“Younger Son,” “The (adapted from a German play named “Schlimme
Saat”: 1893).

“Zaza” (based on a French play of that name by Pierre Berton and
Charles Simon: 1898).

PLAYS AS YET UNACTED.

“Bubbles.”

“Jennie.”

“Jimsie, the Newsboy.”

Opera Singer,” “The.

“Repka Stroon.”

BELASCO AS A DRAMATIST:--A FRAGMENT.

Careful study of the plays of Belasco has convinced me that, much as he has accomplished, he has not yet fully developed his powers or fully expressed himself as a dramatist. There is ample evidence in his writings that he abundantly possesses the natural faculty of dramatic expression. That faculty is born--not made. The dramatic mind comprehends a story not in narrative but in action, sees the characters which are involved, each as a distinctive individual, perceives their relations to one another, notes their movements and hears them speak. To the dramatic mind the spectacle of human life is, essentially, one of _movement_. But that spectacle is vast, tumultuous, bewildering, not to be comprehended at once, perhaps not ever to be comprehended fully, and certainly not to be comprehended without the reinforcement of large experience and a profound, peaceful meditation. The reader of Shakespeare feels that the fully developed intellect of that great dramatist calmly brooded on the world: but there is no Shakespeare now, and there has been no such thing as tranquillity in the world for many long years.

Belasco, when he began to write, was a poor boy, imperfectly educated, in a disorderly environment, subject to all sorts of distractions and impediments, and throughout the whole of his career he has struggled onward under the sharp spur of necessity, without leisure or peace. In scarcely one of his many dramas is it possible to discern an _unforced_ dramatic impulse, spontaneously creative of an exposition of diversified characters, acting and reacting upon circumstances, in dramatic situations, and constituting an authentic picture of human nature and life. In many of those dramas the _existence_ of that impulse is perceptible, but almost invariably the growth of it is checked and the sway of it is impeded by the necessity of haste, or of conformity to the demand of some arbitrary occasion or of deference to the requirement of some individual actor, or to weariness and dejection. Fine bits of characterization appear; flashes of fancy frequently irradiate dialogue; imagination imparts a splendid glow to striking situations,--as in “The Darling of the Gods” and “The Girl I Left Behind Me,”--and pathos is often elicited by simple means; but sometimes probability is wrested from its rightful place, and extravagance of embellishment mingles with verbosity to cause prolixity and embarrass movement. In a word, a sense of _effort_, a strenuous urgency for the attainment of violent _effect_, is largely perceptible in Belasco’s plays,--as, indeed, it is in nearly the entire bulk of modern American Drama. How could it be otherwise?

“Like children bathing on the shore,
Buried a wave beneath,
Another wave succeeds before
We have had time to breathe.”

Belasco, a good son, affectionate and faithful, ever solicitous to contribute to the support of his parents and their family, began labor in childhood, and he has never ceased to labor. At an early age he married, assuming the duties and incurring the responsibilities of a husband and a father in harsh surroundings. In about twenty-five years, working as factotum, secretary, teacher, agent, mechanical inventor, actor, stage manager, theatre manager, and playwriter, and battling against a powerful, unscrupulous, malignantly hostile commercial antagonism, he raised himself from poverty-ridden obscurity to independence, general public esteem, and international celebrity as a theatrical leader. Throughout the ensuing fifteen years he increased his eminence, becoming at last the representative theatrical manager of our day [meaning, here, about 1902 to the present, 1917] in America. He has adapted or rewritten more than 200-odd plays, has collaborated with other writers in making twenty-odd new ones, and is himself the sole author of about thirty more, most of which have been acted but several of which have not. The wonder is not that his writings exhibit some defects, but that, at their best, they contain so much truthful portrayal of character, pictorial reflection of life, fine dramatic situation, and compelling power to thrill the imagination and touch the heart. The time, it seems to me, has not yet come for attempting a comprehensive and final estimate of his faculty and achievement as a dramatist. Whether as an author or a character, he presents a singular, elusive, and perplexing study. The constitution of his mind, I have often thought, shows a striking resemblance to that of the romantic and copiously inventive old English novelist William Harrison Ainsworth. The same prodigal vitality, the same intensity of interest, the same audacious recklessness of probability, the same facility of graphic characterization, the same exuberance of detail, and above all the same wild romanticism peculiar to Ainsworth’s novels are perceptible in Belasco’s plays. The imagination that conceived “Adrea” might well have conceived “The Lancashire Witches” or the first book of “Jack Sheppard.” But Belasco is not merely an imitator. He has pursued a course natural to himself, and he has created much in Drama that is both original and beautiful. If he had written nothing but “The Girl of the Golden West” and “The Return of Peter Grimm” his name would live as that of one of the best dramatists who have arisen in America.

[Written May 18, 1917. Given to me by my father with instruction to
mark it, when setting it for him:

ADD, AND REVISE.

The last phase of his illness began on May 24, and he never saw
this passage after he wrote it as it stands.--J. W.]

THE GOLDKNOPF TRIAL--A UNIQUE DEMONSTRATION.

The trial of the Goldknopf action against Belasco, based on the pretence that “The Woman” was plagiarized from “Tainted Philanthropy; or, The Spirit of the Time,” was begun, July 31, 1912, with a hearing before Commissioner Gilchrist, at

DAVID BELASCO

From a photograph by Arnold Genthe.

Author’s Collection.
]